The Rolling Stones sent a video message to celebrate Bill Wyman’s birthday; the skinny old rockers leaning up against one another as Keith Richards chortled, “Bill’s 80? It’s not our fault!” and Mick Jagger offered sincere but slightly incredulous congratulations on achieving a milestone they “hope to get to in time”. Bob Geldof, true to form, seemed personally affronted by the message. “Lovely to see the Stones so bemused at Bill being 80. Next week, it’s your turn, lads,” snorted Geldof in his customary derisory style.

The gangly Irishman then led Wyman’s Rhythm Kings on a snarling, sleazy crawl through the slow-burn blues of Willie Dixon’s Little Red Rooster, which the Stones memorably made their own in 1964. Geldof, 64, wailed magnificently on harmonica, Andy Fairweather-Low, 64, ripped out dirty guitar licks and the birthday boy himself remained inscrutable behind a bass held erect in front of his face.

The stage may have been filled by bald heads, grey hair and wrinkles, but close your eyes and that dirty blues remained as thrilling as ever. Great music is not just timeless, it effectively suspends time. And this was a night of really great music, played with love and style by masters of the art.

The vintage stars came out for Wyman’s 80th Birthday Gala at the O2 Indigo in London, as part of the Bluesfest. Robert Plant, Van Morrison, Mark Knopfler, Mick Hucknall, Imelda May and Joe Brown all joined the Rhythm Kings for slick, rich, heartfelt runs through blues and soul classics.

Knopfler, 67, joked with Joe Brown, 75, that he was enjoying himself because it was so rare to be one of the youngest people on stage. Knopfler fired off almost supernaturally free-flying licks as Morrison kicked up a storm on Ray Charles’s I Believe To My Soul. Bruce Springsteen sideman Little Steven, 65, joined Geldof for a rip through Route 66, Wyman driving it along with little more than a blurred right thumb.

Mick Hucknall, a spring chicken at 56, swaggered through Slim Harpo’s I’m A King Bee and spoke about how the Stones had provided a soundtrack to all of our lives. Sensational Irish rockabilly belter Imelda May, at 42, she would have been just a twinkle in her parents eyes when the Stones were at the very height of their rocking power, absolutely tore up a version of I’m Crying by The Animals. May spoke with joy about the atmosphere back stage, where musicians were sitting around telling tales. “It’s true,” said a magnificently hirsute Robert Plant. “We’ve been talking about horn parts on Ray Charles songs. That’s how progressive we are.”

Ever the orator, it was Geldof who gave the most heartfelt speech about the vital part Wyman, with his glowering visage and nimble bass lines, played in the story of a band that genuinely shook the world. Wyman left the Stones in 1993 but has continued to perform the music he loves with the Rhythm Kings, effectively enjoying an active retirement with some of Britain’s finest old players, doing the thing they enjoy the most. It was a pleasure that was evident throughout the evening.

Under a mop of thick grey hair, behind huge glasses, and wearing what looked suspiciously like a cardigan, Wyman at 80 no longer comports himself with the leering menace that once made him and the Stones appear so dangerously reprehensible. The usually poker-faced old Stone became genuinely misty-eyed every time he tried to thank the rock royalty paying tribute to his lifetime in music.

“They’re not even getting paid,” he noted, before adding (as if slightly affronted by the realisation) “But neither am I.”

A reminder of his less savoury reputation, however, was mischievously offered after Plant spoke in praise of Wyman’s distinctive upright bass playing style. Wyman, who unabashedly claims to have slept with over a thousand women during his rock star pomp, explained that he held the bass that way to cast a shadow over his eyes, all the better to communicate with women in the front row. “It’s not all art,” he joked.